VERTIGO | River Cartwright

ONE: OPERATION VERTIGO

(make sure you read chapter zero before this!)

SIX YEARS LATER
THE GRAND HOTEL, MANCHESTER - 23:00
"Jet lag's a fucking bastard," The familiar yet gruff voice huffed as a weight shifted in the bed, recalling his overnight flight from the States.

"And that's why I fly economy," Georgie smirked, just about able to make out his features as she lay beside him in the expansive hotel bed, "You and your fucking private jet."

"You're aware that's not how it works aren't you?" He laughed, propping himself up on his elbow, trailing his fingers over her arm.

"Well, Mr Defence Minister, we weren't all blessed with a private education at Eton like yourself," She toyed, knowing how to get under his skin better than most.

"I told you, call me Rob, and it wasn't Eton, it was Harrow," He smirked, flicking the bedside lamp on, eyeing the young woman beside him who wore his white shirt unbuttoned over her lace underwear, "Besides, didn't your father send you to St Paul's? The best girls' school in the country?"

"Details, details," She replied with a coy grin.

"Having the Justice Minister's daughter in my bed, I'd argue that's a pretty massive detail," He muttered, closing the gap between them with a heavy kiss.

"Who just so happens to be on your security detail," She hummed against his lips.

It was work, it was meant to be work, deployed within the Defence Minister's security detail for the last three months, including an official visit to Manchester for a conference to discuss crime in the local area. It wasn't a complex job, it was more of a deterrent, the hope that chancers wouldn't try and attack the Defence Minister if he was accompanied by a strong security presence.

But Georgie's presence on the detail was more than just to offer protection, she had been given a mission of her own that surpassed the importance of protecting the Defence Minister.

She wasn't meant to end up in the man's bed, she wished that she hadn't, but they were careful and it was nothing more than physical. He may have been twelve years older than her, but he made her feel more alive than she'd felt in months. It was selfish but she needed it more than she'd realised.

"If we're not going to sleep, we can at least celebrate," He suggested as he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

"You've not opened this yet," She climbed off the bed, the hem of his shirt grazing her thigh as she collected a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket.

"Suppose it'd be rude to waste a good bottle," Rob smirked as she sat back on the bed, straddling his lap, she popped the cork, letting it fly across the room.

"To Manchester," She raised the bottle with a smile before taking a swig.

"There's glasses over there," Rob laughed, admiring her spirit.

"Glasses are overrated," She replied, tipping the bottle into his mouth, letting the gold liquid hit his lips.

"You're a fucking enigma," He sighed, taking the bottle from her hand, "Reckon you'll be running MI5 by the time I'm Prime Minister."

"And when's that?" Georgie replied, intrigued by the prospect of a younger prime minister than previous years.

"We'll have to see how the party does in the next election, if it goes badly, the PM will have to resign, and then we'll vote on a replacement," Rob explained, swigging the expensive liquid from the bottle.

"So, what you're saying is, you want the opposition to win?" Georgie frowned.

"I think I have enough influence in Parliament to trigger a vote of no confidence," Rob muttered.